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A few days of conversations entirely composed of “Huh?” and ”What? Speak into my good ear” made me realize that this might not actually be one of those things that just work itself out on its own, and getting an ear trumpet was not gonna fly.

While sitting in the ER waiting to be scolded by a doctor, I decided to see what else everyone else was in for, hoping it would make me feel less silly about being there because as a grown adult I couldn’t resist the temptation of ramming a cotton swab in my ear canal. The reading material provided was lacking, so I decided to people watch. There was a sheet separating me from the two patients on either side of me. The guy on my left kept complaining about a headache or something. Patient pain level : 3. Interest level: 1

I turned my attention to the guy on my right who had been mugged and was now worried about the wounds he has sustained during the attack. The nurse started to explain to him that it looked like he should get a tetanus shot at which point I started to reconsider the interest level of the first guy, when suddenly the guy said “Oh no, I don’t believe in your medicine. You see, I’m a shaman..”

Oh, hell yes. The shaman went on to explain that he didn’t believe that he needed medicine, seeing as how since he was empowered with shamanistic abilities, he could stop any infection with his mind. Poor doctor lady tried to reason with him, pointing to the bright red rash forming around the wounds he had tried to wrap himself. I had to admire his outright refusal of her medical diagnosis. I mean after all, he was a shaman, he knew what was up.

Well, except for the whole being able to heal a potential staff infection with his mind. They rolled him off to get an x-ray of his leg to see if his leg was broken, which was met with a disappointing level of acceptance. The nurse that rolled him away did not seem to be as fascinated with her charge as I was and as he was rolled out of the room, I could hear him mention to the nurse “you know, as a shaman…”.

After his room was vacated, it was temporarily filled with a man who’s chief problem seemed to be vomiting, and that he couldn’t stop. I missed the shaman.

I had lost all hope, when suddenly my useful ear picked up on the melodiously scratch of my shaman lecturing a nurse on the value of homeopathic remedies and bird feathers. Shaman pain level: 3. Nurse amusement level: -8.

The shaman started to bother anyone who came by his corner about the results of the x-ray. Finally the lady doctor returned and before she could say anything, the shaman said “Do you mind if we turn off these lights? I don’t like to waste electricity because I’m a..”

“…an environmentalist”.

Oh shaman, you are so full of surprises. The doctor was visibly annoyed and started to not so gently prod the shamans leg to see if it caused him pain, and to prove that as a doctor of modern medicine and not a doctor of shenanigans, that she probably knew what she was doing. The shaman started to visibly wince, and I could hear the doctor smirk through the thin hospital sheet. He mumbled something about willpower and how bacteria got nothin’ on him. When another nurse came over with his Motrin, the shaman was incredibly suspicious of it.

“Will I be able to drive after taking this?”

“It’s Motrin, same as Tylenol. You’ll be fine.”

“Could you get me some lukewarm water? I only drink water that is lukewarm or hot.”

Nurse amusement level: -73. Shaman potential for pain level due to irritating the fine folks at the ER: 9.

The nurse kindly told the shaman that he could wait if he wanted the water to be lukewarm, and the shaman begrudgingly accepted this answer.

The whole time this has been happening I have had no idea what the shaman looks like. The privacy sheet between us made it so that all I saw of him was his feet. When I left I tried to sneak a picture of him with my photo. However since I was trying to avoid being cursed by the Shaman, the photo ended up having a big-foot conspiracy quality to it.

I will never know your face, shaman, but I feel like that is how it was meant to be.

3 Responses to “Sha-sha-shaman”

I love ERs … they give a person enough to think about for a long time. my last trip I was introduced to a male nurse who tried to get me to run a marathon. silly man didn’t look at my chart too closely or he would have realized that for 10 long years the doctors have been trying to get me to do more activity than walking … not gonna happen.

but I don’t get the Q-tip thing … I have never had a problem using them, and in fact, I love them. that whole ear-gasm thing?? ahhh